hide behind the bling

i usually make sure to have earrings on when i leave the house. it's one of my vanities. used to have to leave the house with lip gloss but i've gotten better about that one.

i can leave the house easily in sweatpants and flip flops but it's the earrings i need. go figure.

today i left the house without earrings and i noticed three blocks away. i paused for a good minute thinking about what to do-- go back and get them? go on without them and challenge myself? stop at a store and get a cheap pair and then feel guilty about spending like an asshole?

i chose the second and went into my day, naked-eared and hoping that i wouldn't run into anyone i knew. and that made me ask myself, would anyone notice if i didn't have earrings on? would they see my face and feel like something was missing? would they feel that i was lacking that certain pizazz i always have in the form of dangling fake gold?

probably not.

i felt absolutely vulnerable without my earrings and i realized that i hide behind the bling.

and now two things are running through my head.

1) i am not wearing big earrings in the above picture which is kind of confusing. but whatevs.

and

2) this is so not deep.

and that's the point maybe. sometimes we drive ourselves crazy with things that are so unimportant.

i'd also like to mention that having a little tan makes me look a little thinner.

whole grains and chaz,
rach

everybody and their mama

is it just me or is everybody preggers? i have a handful of friends who are either on their way to popping one out or have just recently popped one out. when i walk down the street i am weaving in and out of big bellied mamas. and let's not forget to mention angelina/katie/gwynneth/gwen/brooke and all the other starlets growing their little seeds.

my biological clock has been ticking since i'm 16 years old. maybe it was a fake tick then-- sort of a longing to be wanted, needed and loved. maybe i just needed a puppy then. but now, oh man, my ovaries have spikes in their asses and cannot sit still.

more than anything i would love to be preggers. i want to walk around with my maternity jeans and my halter top and my big belly smothered with cocoa butter. i want to lie in the park in my bikini top and boxer shorts and feel the sun on my belly. i just want to march the belly all over town and have my own little parade.

but i am not pregnant. wait, am i? maybe i am. it seems that i might have forgotten something. a little unprotected roll in the hay maybe? because just the other day as i was looking in a store with a friend the girl behind the counter and i had a back and forth that went like this:

counter girl: wait, are you susie's sister?

me: no, who's susie?

counter girl: she owns the store. i totally thought you were her sister because she said she had a younger sister who was pregnant and i just thought it must be you.

me: huh. interesting. that's funny.

counter fucker: why funny?

me: because i'm not pregnant.

then counter motherfucker goes into a whole oh my god, i'm so sorry, shit, oh man, shit, i'm sorry blah blah blah.


and then i leave with my friend sucking in my stomach and cursing quietly.

there's something so backwards about this situation. i mean there are the obvious fuckedupednesses like don't god damn tell me i'm pregnant when it's not TOTALLY obvious. and if i say i'm not susie's fuckin' sister in the first place just go back to folding the new spring line and leave me alone to my fake shopping. and my lamaze.


but then there's the backwards-ness in the fact that i wish it were true.

i hafta tell you-- that shit really hurts. it is a real low blow. hard to recover from it. i know i should just blow it off but it's not easy. kind of crushing to the little soul.

anyway i've cheated left and right this week on dubs dubs. i'll get back to it. it's just been a hard week in every single way and i've given up a bit on everything. but no more. back to life. back to reali-tay.

i'm feeling some contractions so i'm going to leave it at that for now.

whole grains and chaz,
rach